The Bones of Summer
by IronBell
Summary: Despite her hope, life only grows more chaotic with Loki's return from prison. As if the entire team being battered with strange nightmares wasn't enough, an unlikely ally steps in to inform them that the troubles are only beginning; apparently, killing Lilith was the biggest mistake of the century. (Sequel to "Seven Years of Winter" - P. HIATUS, A/N inside)


_Hello! If you read "Seven Years of Winter", welcome back! And if you have not, then you should be able to read this story and understand, but not fully. I would say to read SYoW, but you do what you want. As for now, I am happy to introduce the sequel! It will be darker than Seven Years of Winter but also a bit more forgiving, as I don't have to go through the relationship-building process between Loki and Wynn. That being said, this will be a more challening project, for reasons that I'll run into later. Er. But I have plans, and am excited to share it with you all. As always, I love any and all feedback. _

_This chapter is a bit short; I'm using it as a sort of springboard to get started. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: Only the OC(s), the rest is Marvel's._

**Part One**

_**"Because she's a cruel mistress, and the bargain must be made. But oh my love, don't forget me, when I let the water take me."**_

The water crashed hard against the rocks far below, the foam snarling before dissolving onto the sand. Beneath her feet, the slick white of the wrap-around patio spanned far to her left and right, dipping only to make way for an Olympic pool. The base level of Stark mansion was gorgeous, even more so than it had been before it was bombed and fell to the sea below. Having rebuilt it a couple of years ago, Stark passed it off as "having to do renovations, anyway".

A harsh wind had kicked up and it brought with it the smell of smog and brine from the ocean, which she had gradually gotten used to. Malibu was literally the opposite of New York in the winter, filled with sunlight and devoid of snow even in January. It was more what she had grown up with, but she had to admit that she missed the iron city and the sprawl of Stark Tower.

Well, as much as you could miss anything when it was replaced with a private beach and a mansion.

Wynn reached up and tried to bat the stands of white hair that were adhering to her eyeballs and mouth, but it seemed that each time she swiped a lock away, a gust of wind replaced it immediately. She was so busy batting at her hair that the whole image of "girl looking pensively from the cliff (or, rather, cliff _side)" _was completely broken. It went down hill rapidly from there. About the time she had finally managed to wrestle all of her hair back from her face, Stark made a hard spike.

He and Steve Rogers had grown familiar with their afternoon volleyball games, and it was common knowledge to everyone that you did not stand anywhere near the net while they played. You didn't even stand in the same vicinity, and to Wynn's credit, she was following these rules. But Stark's aggression must have been irregularly high on this particular day, because the hard spike he landed literally sent the ball hurtling over the net and _outward, _not down as intended.

It's destination was the left side of Wynn's skull, hitting her upside the head so hard that she thought her brain had loosened from its stem. She stumbled to the side and went into the mandatory duck of those who were pelted with flying object, but the deed was done. And the throbbing headache was immediate.

"Five points!" Stark yelled, just as Steve ran over to see if she had gone cross-eyed.

Such was life now.

This was the timeline as Wynn remembered it:

Loki left in January, when the snow was fresh and deep in New York City. The first couple of months had been the hardest and especially odd. She had been so accustomed to his perpetual presence that she would ask a question aloud, or accidently make a second plate of food, or pick out books she would give to him later. When she realized that Loki was not there, she felt very stupid and, then, lonely. But life was not nearly as quiet as it had been when it was just her and Nanook in her flat, having taken up a permanent stay with Stark. There was always someone to go see and speak with. Somehow, it wasn't the same, and Wynn made mistakes for a while before she adjusted to his absence.

Spring came and went, quiet and calm. Nothing notable happened until summer; that was the season Fury sent herself and Natasha to Tokyo to look into weapon-holding, but it ended up as a bust. False alarm and paranoid on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s end. It was when they arrived home, wired from sleeplessness and full of foreign foods, that the dreams started.

Wynn's dreams had never been out of the ordinary before. No night terrors as a child, no explicit wet dreams as a teenager (at least, not frequently). Even after her father's death, there had only been a few nightmares, mostly of her chasing him but never catching up. Run-of-the-mill. It had been a hot night in July when the first dream occured, and her sleep had been deep and heavy. She was standing in a dark room that she didn't recognize, the walls looming high above her head as if she were in a atrium. But there were no windows, nor doors or lights. It was completely black, and losing her sense of sight frightened her. She had spun around, shuffling, feeling out in the gloom for something solid. It was in the middle of a frantic flail of her arms that the first sound came, and she paused. It was the sound of footsteps.

That was her waking point, and she had snapped up drenched in sweat, the covers tangled between her legs like snakes. There had been an acute pressure, right in the middle of her sternum, pressing against her so steadily that it was hard to breathe. She threw her hand out to the right, patting for a man that wasn't there. It was the first time she had reached out for Loki in a long time, and finding his side of the bed still vacant was unnerving. If only she had known then that she would soon be wanting for him beside her even more, when the dreams began to get bloody. Frightening.

Fall set in slowly, and Wynn slept less. Darcy sat up with her many nights, the two of them drinking mug after mug of coffee, but the girl's endurance wore thin after a while. There was a subtle fear that ran through her each day, and when the sun sank in the sky, she felt that nervousness in the pit of her stomach. The first dreams were not awful - only footsteps. But as the weeks went by, the room in her dream lightened, and a figure emerged. Her father, a thin line of blood running from his nose, the white of his hair brighter than the dull light that illuminated him.

Winter arrived, and her father began to speak.

"Come here, Blueberry," he said, his old pet name for her sounding comforting and warm.

But she couldn't move, struck unmoving and wide-eyed with some nameless terror.

It was only a few weeks ago, in the depth of December, that her father began to move toward her. When she awoke, the weight on her chest was heavier than it had ever been.

_Tap, tap, tap._

Wynn flipped a page in her book and crossed her legs the opposite way as they began to grow numb.

_Tap, tap, tap._

She cleared her throat harshly.

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Darcy."

_Tap, tap, tap._

"_Darcy!" _Wynn said, loudly, and the girl glanced up, breaking the burning stare she had on the paddle. The tiny ping-pong ball swung limply in the air, finally given a rest from Darcy's constant swinging of it.

"Sorry. I've only gotten up to one minute so far," Darcy sighed, and threw the ball-and-paddle down on the coffeetable in front of her. She huffed and leaned back heavily, nearly disappearing into the white leather cushion. Wynn tossed her book to sit beside the toy, having lost interest.

"It's okay. Do you want to do something?" Wynn asked, and Darcy shook her head. A late afternoon weary had set upon them, and the two girls sat on the couch in Stark's living room like a pair of rocks. A light rain had begun outside, and Wynn turned her head to watch it fall behind the glass walls. They sat in a companionable silence, the pattering of rain soothing the knot that had started building in Wynn's stomach. Darcy's yawn broke the quiet.

"Loki comes back next week," Darcy said after her monstrous yawn had ceased, and Wynn nodded.

"Seven days exactly."

"Are you excited?" Darcy asked, and Wynn sat up - sort of. She slumped, as though her shoulders were blown stacks paper. It was a question that should have been obvious, but when she opened her mouth to answer, nothing came out at first.

"I mean, I am. I think. It's just that he's been gone so long and I'm afraid of how he's going to be when he comes back."

"What d'you mean?"

"He's been locked up for another year," Wynn said, and saying it aloud almost made her wince. "What if he's, I don't know, what if he acts cold like when we first met?"

"So you're scared of square one," Darcy groaned as she stretched. "Nah, it's not going to be like that. Loki may be batshit insane-"

"It's not that bad-"

"But it will be the same between you two. You're not different people, you know? He might need an adjusting period, but..." Darcy trailed off as she cracked her neck to the side and heaved herself to her feet.

"Or he might come out like one of those blind creatures from _The Descent," _Wynn commented, and Darcy snorted out a laugh.

"You mean the ones that crawled around and ate those spelunking ladies? No, he's too vain for that."

"You haven't seen Loki in the morning before he's woken up all the way, then. That would make you a believer."

"Okay, if he comes back as some, like, screeching mutant, your ass is going first."

Wynn shook her head, and lifted her hand so that Darcy could grab it and pull her from the couch. Once she was on her feet, she jabbed a finger up at the ceiling, where the bar rested a floor above.

"Stark is our virginal sacrifice," she said.

"Agreed. Speaking of, how's your head?"

"It's fine. Only pounded for a second, but Steve gave me an ice pack anyway."

Darcy smiled and crossed her arms as she turned and began walking to the spiral staircase, Wynn snatching up her book and following. The two paced across the room, feet slipping over the glossy floor. The room was impressive, and admittedly her favorite part of the house. It was so open, and tall, flocked with the abstract paintings Pepper had collected and overlooked by the grand piano on its tiered pedestal. They walked past the black instrument and Wynn promised herself for the thousandth time that she would sit down and make Stark teach her how to play. Soon.

Wynn collected Nanook at the top of the steps, a place he now favored as a sleeping spot. It set her teeth on edge, sure that the big dummy would roll over in his slumber and go tumbling down the glass steps like a boulder. But somehow, he had managed to avoid it so far, and Wynn wasn't about to try to make him choose another place - he tended to pee on household items when he didn't get his way, and if Nanook sent a spray on any of Stark's furniture, it was her ass that would be ripped to shreds.

Speaking of.

"Ladies," Stark greeted, and Barton swiveled his chair around to raise a hand in greeting.

"Hey, Tony, so I heard Steve beat you in volleyball again," Darcy snarked, and Stark rolled his eyes.

"He cheated. I was just too loaded with guilt from using Wynn's head as a target. Which, by the way, I still don't think it's fair that you don't even have a bruise to show for my handiwork," Stark said, gesturing in the general direction of her forehead. He was busy scribbling something on graph paper, most likely some new project for him and Banner to build and then blow up. A majority of their labors did, in the end, blast away to smithereens.

"I accept your apology," Wynn muttered, and she saw his lips twitch in a satisfied smile.

"That will be the day," Banner said.

"And a glorious day it will be. Just not for me," Stark grunted, and then said, "Wait, so if the boosters go here, then where does the heat pool? It needs ventilation."

"No, no, the boosters aren't going there, you - did you erase what I drew? I _told_ you..."

As Banner trailed off into a series of mutters and a flurry of eraser shavings, Wynn turned away to glance outside. The rain had stopped, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before it started up again, perhaps harder than before.

"I'm leaving them to their science shenanigans. Nanook needs to go on a walk. You coming?" Wynn asked of Darcy, but she shook her head, dark curls flying every which-way.

"Go ahead. I promised Steve I'd set up that Photoshop program for him. I've told him a thousand times that he doesn't need it, but he says he wants his art to catch up with the times. Whatever that means."

"Good luck with that. He's getting so modern now. Remember the fight it took to even get him a laptop?" Wynn snorted, and Darcy shrugged helplessly.

"I'm a saint. He's like my charity."

"True," she smiled, and gave Darcy's elbow a squeeze before heading back the way they came, Nanook trudging after her, nails clicking on the floor.

The chill from the breeze made Wynn tighten her raincoat around her body, and she wished Nanook would hurry up. The dog was currently digging in the sand and jumping away whenever a wave rolled in, his legs dripping with salt water. Wynn bounced on the balls of her feet and glanced up at the darkening sky. Not only was the evening setting in, but the rainclouds made it seem even later. The sky was heavy with unshed water, and she only hoped that they could make it back up the path and to the house before the storm let loose.

"Nanook, hurry up, babe. You stink when you're wet!" she called, but the mutt paid her no attention. He went right on flinging sand, and Wynn pinched the bridge of her nose. It seemed she'd have to go grab him by the collar, which would earn her the asshurt stare.

"Fine, if that's - " she paused abruptly, a flash of color catching her eye. She looked to see a woman, far down the stretch of beach. Whoever it was was standing in the water, up to her knees, in nothing more than what seemed like a satin slip. Wynn squinted, but couldn't make out anything else; the mass of the woman's auburn curls hid away her face.

"Hello? Hey, ma'am?" Wynn yelled. Getting no response, she cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled louder, "Ma'am!"

Suddenly, a cold patch exploded on her thighs as Nanook came bounding up and threw himself at her, tail wagging as quickly as it could handle without falling off from the weight of his fur. She glanced down and gave him the obligatory pat on the head before directing her attention back to the woman.

She was gone.

Wynn stared at the long, white length of sand, but there was no hint that anyone had ever been there.

"Okay," she said aloud. "Okay."

* * *

**May 29th, 2013 - Author's Note**

**I get a lot of questions on if the story will be updated, and I am sorry to say that it will not be. The Bones of Summer will not be continued. I LOVED writing Seven Years of Winter, and having you guys read it was amazing. You all have always been supportive and offered valid points, and I am very grateful for that.**

**Will I completely stop writing fanfiction? Probably not. But I've taken a break from it to carve out time to write original stories (that, granted, will probably never see the light of day). **

**Thank you for sticking around with me, and I'm sorry it has taken me this long to put up a notice. I think I was convinced that I would suddenly get a burst of inspiration and magically continue, but if it hasn't arrived yet, I don't think it will.**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, and offering support. It was the only thing that pushed me to finish a whole story!**

**- Kaitie**


End file.
